<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Christmas Journey. In Prose. Being an Infinity Train/A Christmas Carol Crossover: With apologies to Charles Dickens. by IGeo</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26491369">A Christmas Journey. In Prose. Being an Infinity Train/A Christmas Carol Crossover: With apologies to Charles Dickens.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/IGeo/pseuds/IGeo'>IGeo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens, Infinity Train (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Christmas, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Holidays, London, Redemption, References to A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens, Remix, Rewrite, Romance, Therapy, Victorian Science Fiction, Younger Scrooge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:41:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,067</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26491369</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/IGeo/pseuds/IGeo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the year of our Lord, 1863, Ebenezer Scrooge and Jacob Marley are still young enough to be saved from their future fates. They are about to cross the line that will cost them years of their worth and, for one, his eternal soul, when suddenly, a mysterious force intervenes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Belle/Ebenezer Scrooge (A Christmas Carol), Jacob Marley &amp; Ebenezer Scrooge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Christmas Journey. In Prose. Being an Infinity Train/A Christmas Carol Crossover: With apologies to Charles Dickens.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>"I have endeavoured in this Ghostly little book, to raise the Ghost of an Idea, which shall not put my readers out of humour with themselves, with each other, with the season, or with me. May it haunt their houses pleasantly, and no one wish to lay it." - Charles Dickens.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Belle was gone, to begin with. There could be no more denying that. The temporary heartbreak from which she had walked away that December Afternoon on the outer rim of Hyde Park and that she had assured the unfortunate wretch whom she had, perhaps justifiably, inflicted it upon would be just that, was incomparable to the more permanent trauma which she now bore within her chest, like an accused iron maiden around her soul.</p><p>Scrooge was undoubtedly both the cause and the victim of this painful affair, for pain was no more a stranger to him than a mother, ever dutiful by the fireside of a nursery is to her children, fast at rest after experiencing her affection and kindness at play and dining during the hours of the day. Needless to say, the power which Cupid and Venus had held over once two infatuated lovers, Romance, was as dead as a doornail.</p><p>Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, in the tragic nature for which it so deserves that, here at least, Romance was as dead as a door-nail.</p><p>Scrooge minded that Belle was gone? Of course he did! How could he feel otherwise? For many weeks, the rue of his ''release'' lingered and would reoccur, quite unwelcomed but often regardless. And yet, in all outward verbalisms, as his wife who would never be had so assured him, he had dismissed the event as an unprofitable dream, from which he declared to be truly glad to have awoken from in time, lest domestication and family thereafter descend upon his survival, seeking to be the avatar of his ruination.</p><p>For, although a young man in the prime of life, Scrooge had done all to convince himself of the frivolous impracticality of such things as these. His needs, in all departments, were met and well met. These being, to make an account in full, his profits, his trade, his security and his sole friend and partner.</p><p>Marley fulfilled this last position to the best of his ability and his work ethic therein had succeeded all of Scrooge's expectations for he was, although two years his senior, in much the same mindset as his younger collaborator in many a matter of the mind, if not, in some forms, the vault. The subject of ''domestic bliss'', however, was no different to Marley than it was to Scrooge. So, therefore, upon Belle's departure, did he gladly rejoice, though with dignified disregard, at what he perceived as Scrooge's ''deliverance from the ball and chain.''</p><p>The mention of the lovers' separation brings me to my second point. Much in the way love had perished that day, the man whom Scrooge had been accustomed to being for the past several years, was himself, dead. At some point during his 31 summers, the same event had occurred to Marley, though Scrooge had, out of respect, never sought to divulge the details of the instance from his friend's recollection.</p><p>In both cases, neither man sought to revive such deceased personalities. To themselves and, indeed those who had once so proudly professed to know them, the men who had experienced those life-altering occasions, would never again be the men who had so recklessly promenaded into them. This must be <em>distinctly</em> understood, or <em>nothing</em> wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.</p><p>The concern the two had established had been in businesses for but two years by the time I can confess this tale to truly begin. There it sat, in the throbbing commerce heart of The City for years afterwards with the familiar sign above the door: Scrooge and Marley. (The firm was known as Scrooge and Marley.)</p><p>From the point of view of more traditional perspectives, it made little sense that the younger of the two should, in any way, have his name placed in higher regard than the elder partner, although it was generally known that it was Scrooge's incalculable cognition of figures and money changing that had brought the firm to such notoriety in so small a space of time. Those with such philosophies, nevertheless, insistently referred to the practice as ''Marley and Scrooge,'' but both men answered to both names. It was all the same to them.</p><p>Oh! But they were tight-fisted hands at the grindstone, Scrooge and Marley! The years had seen the nobler aspirations of their salad days die off until, at length, only the master-passion, the master vice, Gain seemed to remain. By degree, they had gradually altered themselves into what the debtor ever fears and that the philanthropist ever pities. Squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous sinners! Near hard and sharp as flint, which no steel would or could now strike out generous fire, Secret and self-contained and, if not for each other's company, as solitary as oysters.</p><p>Naturally, as the eldest, Marley had first succumbed to the ailments of the self that such a life produced as well as that of the soul. The cold within him froze and mismatched his outer appearance to his true age. Sunk his cheeks, dried his lips, beaked his flattened nose and shortened his deep brown hair, to where he now wore the remnants in a familiar pigtail which became, save for his rounded spectacles, as days of hours of working in darkness had mildly affected the use of his eyes, his soul distinguishing trait.</p><p>Scrooge's own refrigeration had produced similar alterations as this. His own cheeks were as equally submerged, his eyes red, his thin lips blue, his chin, uncannily pointed at the tip, so that his head near resembled a flattened crescent moon with a blunted top. Upon the wiry, brushed plot of black that covered most of said top was a thin streak of silver, no thicker than a stalk of barley. An emblem of tension and senectitude. Each man carried his own increasingly low temperature always about with him. They iced the office in the dog-days and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas.</p><p>The only indication remaining that the two men were, indeed, members of the same race as those they so often walked past in the streets with their eyes turned down, was that they were still, for the time being, governed by nature's laws. Whilst external Warmth and Chill did little to influence them, foul weather was just this to them as it was to all of humanity. Bitter winds and falling snow remained more intent on their purposes than they and yet, the prevailing fear among all was that, with the coming of their winters, the Heaviest rain and snow would boast of the advantage over them in only one respect. They often "came down" handsomely, and Scrooge and Marley never did.</p><p>The usurious and withdrawn reputation of the dyad soon proceeded them. Nobody ever stopped them in the street to say, with gladsome looks, "My dear Scrooge, how are you? And you as well, Marley my good fellow! When will you both come to see me?" Few beggars implored them to bestow a trifle, few children asked them what it was o'clock, few men or women ever once in all their life inquired the way to...such and such a place, of Scrooge or Marley. In truth, the only minute difference that either man had against the other, was in terms of spending.</p><p>Whilst Scrooge firmly and unflaggingly took as gospel the notion of making one's fortune and keeping it by way of what he viewed as ''logical meagerness,'' at times to the extent of near malnourishment and hypothermia, due to the piteous fires at his own lodgings, Marley was, although hardly benevolent, more prone to selfish indulgence to a certain degree. He indulged in certain sins of gluttony and of the flesh whenever the urge took him, and paid little mind to those outside who scavenged the ashcans for a crust of bread.</p><p>While some may regard these distinctions as that which would inevitably rend asunder the fabric of such a friendship, Scrooge shared too many an opinion with his older companion to truly take offence and while he, at times, would feel compelled to make some offhand judgment over Marley's ''Flirtation with Flavour,'' these times were few and often forgotten.</p><p>Once upon a time— a week and a day from all the good days in the year, Christmas Eve—Scrooge sat busy in the counting-house, awaiting the return of Marley from his customary journey to Capel Court.</p><p>It was cold, biting weather, yet bright with fading sunlight and he could hear the people in the court outside, go wheezing up and down, beating their hands upon their breasts, and stamping their feet upon the pavement stones to warm them. The city clocks had only just gone three, though owing to the shortened days of winter, the sky was already beginning to turn amber and ruddy with the setting of the sun.</p><p>As was customary, the signs of winter evergreen with its pinecones and berries, the holly, ivy and mistletoe, had been hung early in honour of the blessed day and all about could be seen signs of play, glad tidings and goodwill as the light from the fading day flowed generously through the windows of neighbouring offices, as if peach cider being poured into a goblet of crystal. But Scrooge paid this little heed. His eyes, squinted from want of blinking, were, like his nose, lost in a series of open ledgers upon his desk, which he eyed with an expression of impatience and pique.</p><p>His own office possessed a small window of iron bars with small holes at the base for the changing of money, from which Scrooge might keep his eye upon the Bookkeepers as well as the Head Clerk. In the case of the former, there were 10 in total, some old, some young, some with families some without, all with their noses deep in their registries while the Clark, a young, short, willowy lad of 19 years, who sat nearby them in a dismal little cell above, a sort of tank, was copying letters. There were two coal boxes between both employer and employee.</p><p>Both were of regular size, yet both fires were so meagre, that the junior clerks, shivering with frost upon their stools, found their ink begin to ice over in their pots, their own fire being so slight that it appeared to be made of but 5 coals.</p><p>Scrooge's window gave a commanding view of the Head Clerk, who's own scuttle sat next to his desk. Scrooge and Marley regulated the fueling of the hearth at all times. The Clerk could not replenish it without the employers' sanction and so surely as the clerk laid hand upon the shovel, the disapproving, iron gaze of the master would instantly cause him such fear for his position as to send him dejectedly back to his books.</p><p>The opening of the door and the purl of the brass bell altered Scrooge to the return of Marley from his chore. Past the staff he strode, never giving them so much as a wish for the upcoming season. Under his arm, he carried sought after financial tabloids, obtained from his return journey, which he brought into the counting-house before roughly laying them upon the table before the younger partner.</p><p>"The Exchange is closing on the 24th early, I hear.'' This the elder said as he sat at his place at the table, facing the younger. " To "Honour the Season," or so says the Beadle.''</p><p>"Bah!" said Scrooge, "Humbug!" He said this last word with such sincerity, did Scrooge, that for a brief flash of time, one could see themselves sympathizing with such a statement.</p><p>''Eh?" came the reply. "Which Humbug per-say? The Beadle?''</p><p>''<em>Christmas</em>, to be sure!" Said Scrooge with slight indignance, for he had always respected the Beadle and his work with the constabulary, particularly when the lawman's great staff fell upon the unwitting heads of long-overdue debtors. "No doubt the Royal Exchange will follow suit."</p><p>"And so it must, by law." Marley reasoned. "But, if you'll forgive me for this point, I do not recall you ever using such language towards Christmas as you have with other festivals."</p><p>"I can only regret such a delay," returned the younger man, "with the deepest of remorse! I ask you this, Jacob. What good has Christmas ever done you or I? What is it but a mockery of commercial enterprise? A time for balancing your books and having every item in 'em through a round dozen of months presented dead against you? Look at the staff accounts for yourself and see how near this damned holiday has come to ruin us!"</p><p>Saying this he slid across the table the tome detailing staff payment. Marley, without hesitation, began reading the open pages. Upon doing so, his sultana skinned lips drooped, his head shook with the greatest disappointment as a few stay "Tsk tsks" exited through his teeth.</p><p>"You see now then?" sneered Scrooge bitterly through closed teeth. "This is what Christmas means to us, my friend! Our Bookkeepers, barely worth their salt, slacking, gossiping idly of personal matters whenever our backs are turned to them, rather than putting their minds to honest imperial capital! Picking our pockets every 25th of December, to top it all! How can we be taken seriously as either Moneylenders or Merchants under such circumstances, I ask you? Humbug!"</p><p>"Come now." Replied Marley, with a hint of fright, brought on by his companion's outburst. "My dear Ebenezer. Surely, you don't think I am against you on this point? The mad frivolity and foolishness of the season have always caused me some form of revulsion! The beggars, the devil take them, holding out their hats and ratting their cups, the maddening din of children singing carols at one's doorstep, without invitation to boot! Not to mention, the demand for abundant charity at our expense!"</p><p>"And so it shall be always." replied the resigned Scrooge. "'Till a new age of enlightenment dawns upon us. But, back to the matter of the dolts, if I may..."</p><p>"Yes! Of course." said Jacob, dutifully. "Perhaps then a reduction in staff, a streamlining if you will, is overdue? I suppose it is so. As you say, we <em>have</em> been taken advantage of." he added, taking from his own inkpot a pen of modernity and putting the nib to a blank, lined sheet. Doing so, he tapped the side of his hooked nose with the end of the stylus, his thin eyebrow arching, causing him to appear both interesting and interested all at once. "Hmm, yes. What say you then, Ebenezer? A half reduction in staff? No? Perhaps only a third reduction will be necessary?"</p><p>"99.9% reduced." corrected Scrooge coldly, in such a tone as to cause Marley's pen to fall silent. "All excused, save for one."</p><p>"Cratchit?" enquired his elder tradesman.</p><p>"Cratchit." confirmed the younger. His eyes cast a glance beyond the barred window, where the young Cratchit, Head of the Clerks, was dutifully continuing his work at a record pace, almost as if in a dream, as the bookkeepers slowly and meticulously toiled whilst speaking of the blessed day ahead. "There!" said Scrooge with hushed determination. "Out there upon that stoop sits the key to our relief! An idiot he may be at heart, but in mind and in numbers, he's as mature as we shall be in 10 years. You were wise, Jacob, to bring him on as you did. I see this now and I apologize for ever doubting you."</p><p>"Dear Scrooge." reassured Marley. "There was never anything to forgive. I admit I had mild doubts to start with myself. Of course, the boy could easily keep this business in continuation <em>long</em> after we are gone, and I have spoken to him on this subject many times, yet he possesses no desire to take our places. Curious, isn't it?"</p><p>"Yet," Scrooge quickly countered, "He's precise, quick and rarely questions. As loyal as a dog and with half the intellect. He needs no underlings and requires no other company than our own. Why, he alone could easily handle the numbers and juggle the books for many a year solitarily. Let us keep that which is needed and endeavour to do <em>without</em> the dead weight!" Saying this he took a pen which had, by no deliberation, been left out to dry and dunked it back into it's well with such force, that Marley was almost ceased by the urge to cup his hands around it, less it smash on impact with the nib.</p><p>"First-rate!" said he with a nod of false wisdom. "Now then, are there any other...''</p><p>But his sentence was stifled by another clink of the doorbell. This was followed by a small, meek figure of middle-age, curled, brown hair thinning on top and fattish below. So thin and ragged were his clothes, that it might have almost been appropriate to have him brought up on a charge of indecency. He was so timid and so full of stress, this tenant of one of many houses, the title deeds of which the company held so, that as he approached the front desk, the lesser clerks could only hang their heads and say a silent prayer for his divine protection.</p><p>"It's Applegate." said Scrooge with an underlying sense of abhorrence. "No doubt seeking to explain his lapse in mortgage payments and obtain another costly delay. Stay put, Jacob. I shall attend to this." The partner gave an understanding nod, as Scrooge rose from his chair slowly, but with intent. Carefully ceasing a simple, yet thick wooden cane from his stand, he opened the door, expressing to the hapless Applegate, in all subtlety, how unwell the older man was met in terms of his lack of payment upon a house he and his family claimed to so cherish.</p><p>"Please, Mr Scrooge!" begged the tenant with little hope but with quick delivery. "I know you're <em>very</em> angry about this and I didn't mean to fall behind in the payments. Lord knows, it bein' so close to Christmas n' all. Oh, please don't shout at me, sir!" Scrooge didn't shout. On the contrary! He spoke not a word as he began to gently lead Applegate by the scruff of his coat, away from the desk, past the two rows of clerks, past the solemn Cratchit and towards the front door. "That and, of course," continued to desperate Applegate, "Little Gwen. Her lungs aren't right. The Doctor takes his share, don't 'ee? I mean you can yell and scream and, of course, you're right, but it won't do no good! 'Cause I'm the stone you can't squeeze blood from and that's the..."</p><p>His last word, that being "Truth", was cut short as Scrooge, with a passion, deposited him outside and slammed the door in his face. And yet, this poor man, Applegate, filled as he was with Christmas Spirit, still saw it fit to thank his Landlord and Creditor for not raising his voice to him. Upon marching back towards the Counting Office, said Creditor heard the voice of Cratchit, raised in early but glad Christmas greeting towards the unfortunate debtor. "There's another fellow," muttered Scrooge; upon reentering the hole. "Our clerk, with thirteen shillings a week, a widowed mother and engaged to a girl without a Half Crown to her name, talking about a Merry Christmas. I'll retire to Bedlam."</p><p>"You are quite still sane, I think." reassured Marley, who now, perhaps from the lateness of the day was, himself, sounding quite tired of these affairs. "Now, as I was saying before we were so <em>rudely</em> interrupted, is there any further business I should be aware of?''</p><p>"Indeed there is then." replied Scrooge, retaking his seat. "You are aware, I hope, of the situation regarding the auctioning of the Fezziwig Savings Bank's main warehouse?"</p><p>"How could I not?" came the answer. "It seems but only yesterday that you and I left our apprenticeship there to start all of this. I was not the least bit surprised to hear of the bank's bankruptcy after Old Fezziwig's death. It was only a matter of time, given his foolish ways."</p><p>"As I well recall," said Scrooge, "It was you, Jacob, who was quick to point out how reckless Fezziwig's addiction to charity was to us in the long term."</p><p>"And rightfully so!" cried Marley with great pride. "In truth, I dare say that his weak brain and silkened heart left more accounts overdue than paid than any other venture in the city! Ruination was a judgment upon him. I am grateful, Ebenezer, that I was able to persuade you to join me in taking our leave from his asylum of future paupers before it was too late."</p><p>"Be that as it may," Scrooge said with concern. "there currently sits in the East End a barely maintained warehouse going cheap. For the changing of money, it holds no value, but I have come into possession of a great quantity of meat from an abattoir in Essex. With the right refrigeration and storage, we can easily make it of use to us. I've prepared a bid for the Auction already, but with your wise advice in business matters, I believe we can secure the building without fail."</p><p>During the detailing of his plan, Marley remained seated. Not speaking, but silently nodding and grunting with interested affirmation, as if an emperor on his throne, hearing the light of some lesser aristocrat for he did, after all, quite value what little seniority he held over Scrooge. "I also hear," he said at length, "that you are not the only interested party determined to lay hands on the property."</p><p>Scrooge slowly gazed up at his friend with slight annoyance, as if he had been dreading this item of conversation since the occasion of the upcoming sale had been brought up. "Are you referring to the bid planned by Belle Fezziwig, per-chance?" he inquired slowly.</p><p>"I do."</p><p>"What of it?" snapped Scrooge, somewhat defensively. "It matters little to me, I assure you, if you somehow believe I have any consideration left for her."</p><p>"Of course not." soothed Marley. "I mention it only that it comes to mind just now. No doubt, she intends to revive the old family ways, for women-owned businesses are, I hear, quite fashionable nowadays, provided the woman is unmarried, of course."</p><p>"She intends," barked Scrooge correctively, "to continue the self-destructive policies of her father. That which has left her without inheritance. Foolish girl! Humbug to her as well! No doubt, she sees the bank as her birthright. Regardless, she must and will be corrected!"</p><p>"And we shall be the firm hands that do so!" finished Marley with a thump to the table. "Shall we deal with both affairs tonight?"</p><p>"Here?"</p><p>"At my own chambers." Marley insisted. "As they are closer to here than your apartment and more well lit than the counting-house. I take it you have an ideal date for the booting of the excess staff?"</p><p>"The 25th of this month, as it happens." replied Scrooge with hushed finality. Then, in a grotesque bid for humour, he added. ''Owing to the season, shall we send off the severance in Christmas Cards?"</p><p>A sly and wicked grin crossed Marley's face as this was uttered. "A braver move," said he, mock poetically "was never made on such a "Holy" Season."</p><p>To this, naturally, Scrooge answered with yet another "Bah!" before following once more with "Humbug." But this he said, not only quietly so as not to be heard, but with a cold, hollow smirk. It was as if, in that instance, the Devil had taken them both in his grip, with little intention of giving either man any form of release.</p><p>Time passed on. Soon, the spirit of evening herself made her grand but silent entrance with her star drenched, glittering cloak to banish the sun entirely with gentle persuasion and so, with her arrival, came the fog. So thick it was that people ran about with flaring links, proffering their services to go before horses in carriages, and conduct them on their way. The ancient tower of a church, whose gruff old bell was always peeping slily down at the moneylenders out of a Gothic window in the wall, became invisible, and struck the hours and quarters in the clouds, with tremulous vibrations afterwards as if its teeth were chattering in its frozen head up there.</p><p>The cold became intense. In the main street, at the corner of the court, some labourers were repairing the gas-pipes, and had lighted a great fire in a brazier, round which a party of ragged men and boys were gathered: warming their hands and winking their eyes before the blaze in rapture. The water-plug being left in solitude, its overflowings sullenly congealed, and turned to misanthropic ice.</p><p>The brightness of the shops where holly sprigs and berries crackled in the lamp heat of the windows, made pale faces ruddy as they passed. Poulterers' and grocers' trades became a splendid joke: a glorious pageant, with which it was next to impossible to believe that such dull principles as bargain and sale had anything to do. The Lord Mayor, in the stronghold of the mighty Mansion House, gave orders to his fifty cooks and butlers to keep Christmas as a Lord Mayor's household should; and even the little tailor, whom he had fined five shillings on the previous Monday for being drunk and bloodthirsty in the streets, stirred up tomorrow's pudding in his garret, while his lean wife and the baby sallied out to buy the beef. All the while, Scrooge and Marley waited with patience for the hour of shutting to make itself known.</p><p>Soon enough, this hour came and upon the bitter admittance of this from their masters, the unsuspecting Bookkeepers happily relayed the proclamation to their gracious leader. Soon, all was a buzz as the grabbing of coats, hats and canes comenced in earnest, Bob Cratchit, naturally, supervised all as the employees made ready the work of closing up. Bob, seizing his own hat and coat, ever eager to return home to his widowed mother to talk of the day's events and discuss, at great length, the upcoming Christmas season with his beloved Emily, was most eager of all that the job should be done ahead of time.</p><p>"Your work this week has been somewhat exceptional, Cratchit." Scrooge said unemotionally, approaching the head clerk. "No doubt, I shall have no choice before long but to raise your salary by two shillings."</p><p>The Clerk smiled. The employer didn't.</p><p>"No doubt, your standing within the company should be raised also." added Scrooge.</p><p>"I would hope not to be promoted too soon, sir." The Clerk responded, nervously, praying he did not sound ungrateful. "I might be quick to forget where I came from. Mr. Marley has often stated..."</p><p>"Mr, Marley and I have discussed this." interrupted Scrooge with deadpan disinterest. "You shall be keeping your current employment with the firm. It's your position itself that will be raised in importance, though I cannot explain the full details to you at this time." The clerk professed that he understood that his master had his reasons for such secrecy, whatever they may be. Needless to say, he was also quick to express his gratitude afterwards, unaware of both Scrooge and Marley's true intentions in the matter. Following this exchange, the two owners left with younger trailing behind older and then, when on the wider streets, side by side, departed without so much as a "Good Night" to their faithful workers.</p><p>The office was cleared within minutes. All of the lesser clerks gladly wished their head an early Merry Christmas before going on their way to wait ever impatiently for the day to arrive. Some had still a great deal of purchases to enact for both gifts of the heart and feasts of the stomach. Others, wiser and more readily prepared than the younger and more lackadaisical of their workmates, returned home to try for eight days more to resist the temptations of gluttony for the sake of the Saviour's birthday celebrations and instead, pay more the little attentions to the families they had longed for the whole day.</p><p>Others still, on their way to either of these aforementioned tasks of the heart, found themselves gloriously tricked into being children again either by tempting ice slides, helping with the construction of snowmen, or quickly becoming unsuspecting soldiers in a battle of snowballs.</p><p>Bob Cratchit himself, did as I have described previously and at once was off like a shot to where he and his dear mother lived in their poor, but warm abode in Camden Town, where he soon made plans for his marriage to his beloved, due the upcoming Spring.</p><p>Scrooge and Marley took their usual dinner at their usual Inn, whist pouring over the Newspapers, both Financial and Informative. But Scrooge's mind or cares could not have been more removed from either his meal or the goings-on abroad, for his concentration was firmly locked upon the matter of the Fezziwig Warehouse and the Auction, among other matters.</p><p>I must, therefore, ask you to recall, if you can, that Scrooge had done all in his own power to remove the phantasm of Belle Fezziwig, his former master's eldest daughter and his former fiance from his haunted memory. This, as you may well have discerned from him and Marley's earlier discussion, had failed miserably and Scrooge was no more telling the truth to his partner when he'd stated that Belle's daily life meant nothing to him now than if he had declared that Cheese was a breed of Rhinoceros that dwelled at the Bottom of the Ocean.</p><p>In truth, it was Scrooge's desperation to escape the memory of his own regret that had been the cause of his shifted behaviour. It had all to do with a comment Belle had made regarding his past self and driven by a dangerous combination of spite and pride to separate said past self from his current state, in much the way as the great outlaws of Sherwood are reported to have been driven by both patriotism and honour to victimize the rich, he now sought to inflict the same humiliation on Belle in the name of less noble ends and intentions. What better way then, than by spiriting away Belle's birthright and make doubly sure that in the eyes of not only her but himself and all others, that he was, after all, quite the irredeemable, underhanded miser.</p><p>Undoubtedly, it was this surge of ill will that had strengthened his resolve to dismiss his bookkeepers, as while Scrooge had, in the past, been reasonably lenient and, perhaps in his own mind, Kind and even soft-hearted towards them, in spite of the cold attitude he displayed outwardly, their removal from his life would surely alienate himself further from Belle and thus, his own foolish youth. Soon, he would have security of the mind as well as from the bailiff. Yet, even now, Scrooge felt a sense of dread that perhaps, in some way, things were not to work out as he would like.</p><p>The fog of the evening was darkened more-so by the coming of night. Making their way past begger women and a group of young boys singing carols at them, the two men made their way from the tavern to Marley's dismal chambers. A lowering pile of building up a yard it was, where it had so little business to be, that one could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it was a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other houses, and forgotten the way out again.</p><p>Despite this, the suite was not as gloomy as one would think it to be, owing to Marley not being as unreasonably thrifty as Scrooge. So, he walked ahead, due to having the only key to both the iron gate which stood like an enormous, black sentry in defence of the dwelling and the house itself, while Scrooge, with vengeful self-reinvention still firmly on his mind, lagged behind in the courtyard.</p><p>The fog by now was so heavy, that he was forced to grope with his hands to find his way around. No easy feat to be sure, and it was certainly this that caused him to overlook a small stone in the far right-hand side of the yard, which sent him tumbling to the ground and the account books which had been holding and that held therein the rough draft of his plans for the warehouse purchase as well as the blank pages to relay the matters of termination, tumbling through the air before landing in a mound of snow.</p><p>Upon hearing his friend's cry and fall, Marley looked over with the full intention of helping Ebenezer to his feet. He quickly drew back at once though, upon seeing the near demonic anger upon Scrooge's own face that caused his triangular chin to seem like some sort of triangular dagger of skin and bone.</p><p>A more emotional man might have flown into a violent rage at such an indignity, but Scrooge held strong, suppressed the passionate emotions as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and breathed heavily through his teeth. All the while, his enraged mind thinking up newer and more callous acts on which he would perpetrate upon his customers. Alas, the urge to retaliate against the world he despised overwhelmed him and it was within the instance where Scrooge was about to strike a pile of snow, imagining it to be the face of Applegate, (rather than Belle as he was never one to strike a woman,) that the event occurred.</p><p>Now, it is a fact that Marley's home was located at a fair distance from the nearest railway station. This being at a time where the companies lacked the permission to penetrate through either the West End or The City itself. Locally, the nearest convenience was to be found at Euston a borough away.</p><p>It is also a fact that, even if this was not the case, no Director or Cheif Engineer in existence would be so grasped by lunacy, as to have tracks placed through the streets of the city itself, let alone across a gentleman's courtyard. Let it also be borne in mind that both men were, in most cases, possessed of as much health mentally as you or I, (this I say with the hope that you are as described, as a mind is a woeful thing to lose) and then let any man explain to me, if he can, how it happened that as Scrooge was about to perform assault on the lesser elements, that suddenly and without warning, in a flash of mellow light and seemingly out of the Aether, both he and Marley heard the unmistakable sound of a train passing right by their ears!</p><p>Scrooge let out a scream, half of panic half of confusion and scrambling away from the clattering and ringing behind him, found both himself and Marley staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed in awe at, as ludicrous as it may sound, a long line of railway carriages in the street outside the yard!</p><p>To those more enthusiastic about the composition of railways and their traction than this aetherial event, I will describe, with goodwill, these coaches to the best of my ability. They were, in all appearance, of London and North Western origin. 4 wheeled and Standard. Boxy in design and cream painted above with the usual Maroon below. What so set them apart from their brothers and indeed, what made the men so fearful of them was that from their narrow windows, a dismal green light, like that from a bad lobster in a dark cellar, shone through with such intensity that the passengers within, if passengers there were, could not be seen from a distance, or up close.</p><p>Upon thinking about said occupants, Scrooge's heart quickly skipped a beat in horror. He may have grown cold to man's destitution, but he was not so cruel in conscience as to be unaffected by such a seeming disaster as this! Yet, when he came towards the train, expecting to see the houses on the right side of the street damaged or reduced to rubble, he instead discovered, to his own astonishment, that rather than having demolished the neighbourhood, the train had seemingly melded into it, as if it had been built into the street itself. Not even the dirty gravel road beneath its axels had been the least bit disturbed.</p><p>Stranger still, this train had been travelling at a pace faster than any had known to history and yet, in spite of this incredible record-breaking feat, the engine that had performed it and was so richly deserving of a royal banner from Her Majesty herself, was not to be found. Indeed, as Marley joined the trembling form of his partner at the open gate, both men looked left and right, but could see nothing but the carriages, stretching on seemingly into infinity. The men gaped at it in terror and wonder. It was as if the world has been turned on its head and all sanity had been, conceptually, abolished.</p><p>"I-it's Humbug!" stammered the unnerved Scrooge as he closed his eyes and shook his head to try and rid his vision of the apparition of the train. "I-I cannot believe it! We mustn't believe it, Marley! Do you hear me? We mustn't believe!"</p><p>"But I do..." whispered Marley fearfully shaking his head, eyes wide as if his mind was slowly unwinding into madness. "I must. You can see it also, can you not, Ebenezer? How can we doubt our senses when both faced with this?"</p><p>"Talk sense, Man!" Cried Scrooge attempting to slam shut the gate and finding, much to his chagrin and fear that by powers far beyond his own, he could not. "This is nothing more than a shared hallucination, most likely brought on by the stress of dealing with our moronic clientele! Perhaps compounded with a disorder of the stomach! This..."train" might be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of Raisin than of Rail about this, whatever it is!"</p><p>Marley turned his head to look at Scrooge. His features now chilled, not by avarice, but by horror. He now suspected the train to be some sort of sign that they had not made it to his home alive and that this express had come to ferry them to the rings of perdition. Now, he was grasped with the fear that Scrooge's ill-timed decision to crack a joke had offended whatever force was driving it and that their serviced journey would be nearly as torturous as the destination and therefore, most likely Parliamentary.</p><p>But how much greater was his horror when, as if blasted by a sudden arctic gale, the iron gate was pushed asunder, sending the men backwards as, without the aid of any visible porter, the middle door of the middlemost carriage swung violently open! This was quickly proceeded by a small, crude block of wooden steps which, held on by latches, fell from the doorway to the street with a dull thud. Unlike the illuminations beyond the windows, the door revealed pitch darkness and nothing else.</p><p>The first and foremost instinct of both men, as it very well might have been your own, was to attempt to run from this unknown transportation to the safety of the house behind them, though Scrooge showed this less-so than his terrified partner, although his expression had now altered to one of noticeable worry. Yet, as both men stared into the mysterious light of the doorway, a crazed resolve possessed them both. It purged them of fear and of common sense, leaving behind only child-like curiosity in its wake.</p><p>With their mental barriers and will removed, the men found themselves walking, as if in a trance, out of the yard, across the street and up the wooden stairs towards the blackness of the open doorway. For a brief microcosm of a moment, there was an instance where Marley, who was in front of Scrooge and whose feet were on the top step, regained his senses and might have attempted to jump from the block and run down the street screaming into the mist, had it not been that in that instance, the pure darkness within the corridor was rapidly replaced, in all sides but the centre, by a vortex of pure light that, as if the horn of Gabriel sent to call the faithful and unfaithful up to the final judgement, transcended the boundaries of its domain, leapt upon he who stood with the ferocity of a snake and, with a sharp squeal, dragged him by hideous vacuum into the recesses of the coach!</p><p>At last, Scrooge's outward courage fell away upon witnessing this nightmarish sight! He screamed out Marley's name in fear and despair and with tears forming in his eyes, he attempted to turn and flee from the railless abomination. All too soon, he found it impossible to do so, as the vortex dragged him, stumbling, up the stairs and through the doorway. In desperation, Scrooge grabbed with his right hand the edge of the door while his left shot towards the handle of its neighbour!</p><p>There he was, trapped in the iron grip of a force unknown to man, with the familiar world he had so taken for granted out of reach! I cannot begin to tell you what jumbled, bizarre thoughts of confusion went through Scrooge's mind, for in the space of only three seconds, his grip gave way and with a terrifying scream of pure, primal fear, uttered only by the shaking sinner upon his death-bed, Ebenezer Scrooge found himself hurtling through light for but a brief moment, before, in the next, all fell once more to darkness!</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>